


18 months

by Danagirl623



Series: Parentlock [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 19:49:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14576367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danagirl623/pseuds/Danagirl623
Summary: The next "chapter" of this one will be a multi-chapter arc involving the Holmes' brothers, John and Rosie Watson, and a field trip to Walt Disney World.





	18 months

John rolled over to hear violin music sweeping into his room. John glanced at the clock (0342) and sighed. If his husband woke up their daughter, John was going to murder him. He got out of bed and went into the living room. There was his husband, topless, playing violin. His back was to the bedroom, and for a moment John appreciated his muscular back. The nicotine patch on his arm glistened in the low light. John looked him over and from behind he looked normal. When he turned towards John, he looked haggard and worn. He tried to give a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He had grown a beard! How did John miss that? “Oh, love.” John said, walking over to embrace him. He leaned into John’s arms and sighed. “Put your violin down and come join me in bed.” John said, kindly. His husband hastened to obey the gentle suggestion. He put his beautiful tool away and grabbed the baby monitor before they walked into the bedroom. John crawled into bed first, and held his arm out for Sherlock to crawl into. He did, gently placing the monitor on the table next to the bed. “Hi, Sherlock.”  
“Hi.” he said, wrapping himself around his husband.  
“When’s the last time you slept?”  
“Last night.” Sherlock lied.  
“False.”  
“Maybe… It was more like a few nights ago.”  
“Wrong.” John sighed. “Do you know?”  
“I think it was 10 nights.” He admitted, burying his face into John’s neck. “After 5 nights, it just starts to blur together.”  
John grunted, anger flashing through him. He took a deep breath and sniffed in rage. He tried that counting thing that one therapist or the other had suggested.  
“I know!” Sherlock squeaked, still hiding his face. “It’s beyond a bit not good!”  
John nodded in agreement. John kissed Sherlock’s head, ignoring his excuses. “Where is that man that asked me for what he needed? Why haven’t you said anything sooner?”  
“He’s here. I can sleep! I didn’t ask for help at first, I thought I had it under control, then I lost track of the days and I didn’t know how to ask-” Sherlock cut himself off, and rolled away from John. He didn’t know what else to say. John followed, snuggling into him. He placed his left hand around Sherlock’s curls and tucked his right hand under Sherlock’s neck, fingertips near the pulse point.  
“Take a deep breath, my love.” Sherlock compiled, but didn’t feel any changes in the rapidness of his thoughts. He looked up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his husband on him. That helped his body, but didn’t help his mind. He decided to do a few complex multiplication problems in his head, while he breathed slowly as John instructed. Maths was comforting to him. Grammar was aggravating to him. Science was a turn on. Literature was a turn off. He focused on the way the numbers flew through his head. Slowly he felt them land and turn sluggish. “That’s great, husband mine. You’re doing so well.” John grinned, feeling his body relax under him. He continued to count his heart beats while eyeing the alarm clock. It was after 0400. John groaned inwardly.  
“Too much.” Sherlock finally managed, still doing complicated maths in his head.  
“Precision language, please.”  
“Too many bad things happening.”  
“Are these things happening inside your head or outside of it?”  
Sherlock finished a long division problem and said quietly, “Both.” He waited a moment before adding, “Outside triggers inside.”  
John thought about what he had said, understanding it fairly well, and idly twisted a curl around his finger. “Are you having nightmares?” He asked, finally.  
Sherlock nodded his head. “About you. Rosie. Mary. Mycroft. Mummy. Daddy.”  
“Do you want to talk about them?”  
“No. I can’t.” Sherlock shook his head. “Many nights, I’ve just been laying here with you. I watched you sleep. You look so gorgeous. I-”  
“Babe.” John interrupted, sternly.  
“Not good?”  
“Watching me sleep is acceptable. I’m your husband.”  
“But?”  
“I’m still stuck on the “you not sleeping for so many nights you don’t remember how long it’s been.” I’d like you to talk to me when this happens.” He requested as he rolled away from Sherlock. He went into their bathroom and came back with a glass of water and two pink tablets in his hand. Seeing the medication with the intention of Sherlock taking it made him nervous.  
“John. I’m an addict. I can’t take anything.”  
“These two tablets in my hand are diphenhydramine. They are allergy medication. Completely safe for someone like you.” John held up his hand, with a grin. “I know you don’t have allergies, but it’s a very common medication used in OTC sleep aids. Sleepiness is the most reported side effect.” Of course, there was the potential to wind him up from it too, but John didn’t mention that.  
Sherlock made an “O” face. He sat up to take his medication without a fuss. He made a “gross” face and shook his head after swallowing. John laughed and took the glass from him. He drained it and crawled back into bed with him.  
“First my husband. You’ll sleep. Tomorrow, you and I are going to the gym.”  
“A gym?”  
“Yes. I need you to sleep at night. Rosie needs her Papa.” John overprounced that last word so it sounded like “Pop-Paw.”  
“Shut it, Daddy!” He replied saying it just Rosie did “Daaaaad-Deeeeee!”  
“Snuggle in here and let me hold you.” Sherlock rolled over and buried his face in his husband’s neck. John softly carded his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. Suddenly he yanked the curls and sharply said, “Ten fucking days you let this go?” His husband yelped. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.” John used his Captain Watson voice.  
Sherlock groaned. “I’m sorry, my love.”  
“You will be tomorrow. Your body is going to be exhausted.” John tugged his husband’s hair again. “I’m so disappointed in you.”  
Sherlock whined, sleepily. “You’re hurting me.”  
“Stop complaining.” John said, tugging again. “I have half-”The medication must have hit Sherlock quick and hard because he was dead asleep. John sighed with a glance at the clock. 0442. He was up for the day now. “Bloody husband.” he muttered, crawling out of their bed.  
John walked out to the kitchen and brewed himself some coffee. He grabbed his phone and texted one of his least favorite people, Mycroft Holmes.  
Did you know? JW  
Good morning, Dr. Watson! It’s such a lovely morning. I know a good many things. To which are you referring currently? MH  
Sherlock. JW  
Ah. So you’ve grown tired of him? MH  
John slammed his phone down in anger. He hit it again. He picked it up calmly and saw the insides on the outside. He searched out Sherlock’s phone only to find it dying. He plugged it in with a sigh. A fleeting thought about overgrown toddler crossed his mind.  
Do not ever assume I’ve grown bored of him. I married him for a reason. JW  
What happened to your phone? MH  
Accident with my fist. Do you know that Sherlock hadn’t been sleeping? If you knew--- Death would be too good. JW  
I thought we were above this pettiness? MH  
John slammed Sherlock’s phone in anger. He dialed Mycroft’s number. Before Mycroft could greet him, he started telling him off. “I have been awake since 0300 and have no patience for this shit.” John actually snarled this last part. “I have been dealing with your brother only to find out he’s been having nightmares and he hasn’t slept in ten days. In less than 1 hour, I will have a teething toddler to deal with. Then my currently slumbering husband will wake-worse than he was before-and I will have two grumpy toddlers. So if you knew anything and didn’t warn me-”  
Mycroft listened to John ream him a new arsehole. With an eye roll, he finally answered. “The CCTV in your apartment has been off from sometime now. My dear brother insisted.”  
John enjoyed hearing that bit, but still wanted verbal confirmation. “Please tell me what you know to be true.”  
“I had no idea he hadn’t been sleeping.” John nodded, and started to say his goodbyes when he was interrupted. “Is he using?”  
John barked in laughter. “Goodbye Mycroft.” He disconnected the line. Sherlock would never use, he made a promise. He heard talking from upstairs. His daughter was awake. John left his coffee mug and Sherlock’s phone. He made it up the stairs before he could hear her words.  
“Papa Lock! Come home!” “Come home” meant “Come here” but John hadn’t the heart to correct her like Sherlock always did.  
“Good morning, Rosie.” John grinned at her as he came to the top of the steps.  
“Daddy John!” she grinned. “Papa Lock come home?”  
“Let’s go downstairs my love.” He said, as he picked her up out of the crib. He carried her downstairs. “Papa Lock is sleeping. Shhh.” He leaned over to place her on the floor as he closed the gate. John straightened up after securing the gate, and saw blonde curls disappear into the bedroom. “Bugger.”  
He hastened to follow, but stopped in the doorway when he saw his daughter snuggle into her Papa’s arm. She pulled the blanket up and laid her head back against him. Her little body seemed to relax into his. She closed her eyes and managed “Rosie come home.” before passing out.  
John laughed to himself, and enjoyed the sight of his two favorite people slumbering. Rosie looked like a cherub. Sherlock looked younger in sleep. John’s heart was full of love for them. “Oh, what the hell.” he said, shutting the door and joining his family in bed. “What am I going to do with you two? Two cranky toddlers against one old man.” He put his back to his husband and hugged a pillow. “ Brats. The two of them.” he muttered feeling comfortable and sleepy again. Before he drifted off, he heard Sherlock’s panicked voice in his head “Co-sleeping is really bad for the baby.”

A gentle curl tug accompanied by a “Papa Lock! Rosie eat!”  
Sherlock yawned and stretched. “Well, hello little one. How did you get here?”  
“Daddy John.” She said, rolling her eyes. “Want pannycakes.”  
Sherlock grinned, and got off the bed. He turned his back to her and wait for Rosie to climb on. He carried her out of the bedroom and gently shut the door. John was an extremely light sleeper. He’d be out shortly. Sherlock carried his baby Watson to the kitchen. He helped her into the high chair. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his husband’s smashed cell phone. He groaned, then looked at his daughter. “Your Daddy John is so bad.”  
“Bad. Bad. Bad.” Rosie agreed.  
“Would you like some milk or juice this fine morning, my sweet wee Watson?” She made a mooing sound and used her sign language skills to sign “milk” “excellent choice.”  
He got her a cupful of milk and grabbed the leftover pancakes from yesterday. She was stuck in a very picky phase. All she ate was strawberries, pancakes, apples, chicken, and peas. She drank milk, juice, and water. Sherlock wasn’t worried, because he remembers being picky himself. John was a doctor and didn’t worry about any of Rosie’s development because as he constantly reminded Sherlock. She was exceptionally normal. She hit all milestones as expected. Sherlock thought she was a phenomenal child and believed that his husband needed to brush up on his peds. Any Watson child being raised by both John and Sherlock would grow to be an unstoppable force of nature.  
Sherlock shook his head to clear those thoughts away. “Pancake time, love.”  
“Pannycakes!” She agreed, slamming her milk cup down. Sherlock cringed, realizing that would be the thing that woke John up.  
A loud slam woke John up. He yawned and stretched out. He reached over and turned the baby monitor off. He hates the white noise anymore. He stood up and looked at the clock. It said 10:35. So Sherlock had about 5 hours of sleep. That was not bad. John lumbered out to the kitchen, yawning.  
“You left me sleep too long.” John complained. He kissed Rosie on the head.  
“Bad, bad, bad.”  
“Yes, Papa Lock is bad.”  
Sherlock turned back to John with a smile that actually met his eyes. Gone was the ghost of a smile from last night. “Good morning, husband mine.” He looked rested. John almost envy him the low amount of sleep he required to exist.  
“What the fuck is on your face?” he laid eyes on his husband’s straggly, sparse beard. Somehow in all the drama of last night, he had forgotten all about the beard.  
“A beard.”  
“Go shave!” John instructed. “And bathe if you haven’t in the last 24 hours.”  
“Joooohn.” he whined. “I like my beard.”  
“Do not tempt me.” John pronounced each syllable. “I will hold you down and shave it off myself.”  
Sherlock scoffed. “What happened to your phone?” He slid his daughter her breakfast plate.  
John glanced at his phone. “We had a row. Now, go shave.” John glowered at his husband. Sherlock turned his back to his husband and got each of them a mug of coffee. John waited until his hands were free before he grabbed Sherlock by the pinna of left ear. John pulled him into the bathroom huffing the whole way. Sherlock was whining, struggling. John pulled him in the door and glared at his husband. His husband stared at him in surprise. “I am far too old to deal with such an insolent brat. Shave your face.” John commanded, feeling the earlier anger return. He flexed his fingers.  
“You’re not serious.”  
“William. Sherl-”  
“Ok!” the brunette huffed. “I didn’t know you hated it. You never said it.”  
“Love, it was finals week. I really haven’t seen you in decent light in quite a few days.” John sighed, then his voice hardened to steel. “If we had more alone time, I’d make you kneel at my feet for your brattiness and your total lack of disregard for how I might need you to behave. I’d teach you what happens when the Captain is displeased.”  
Sherlock shivered at those words. He seen this side of John before, but never directed at him. Delicious images of John in fatigues commanding him to get on his knees filled his mind palace. ‘Later’ he thought and filed those images away. “As much as I enjoy your captain side, I think I’ll shave my face.” John nodded, and left the bathroom.  
He glanced at the two framed documents hanging on the wall. One was Rosie’s official birth certificate with Sherlock listed as the third parent. The other document was commonly referred to as the agreement. It was what John needed of Sherlock to move back home and stay there. The line that caught his eye said, “If these above agreed upon statements are broken, depending on the severity of rule breaking, the results will be anything from Sherlock Holmes being evicted to total absolution of any relationship with Dr. John Watson and dependent.” He sighed as he read this over.  
It was serious that his husband hadn’t slept, especially for 10 days. The part that hurt him the most was how Sherlock didn’t ask for help. He couldn’t tell Sherlock to ask for help, then punish him when he physically couldn’t. Of course John believed Sherlock about the days blurring together. He remembered what that felt like.  
A knock interrupted John’s thoughts. He answered the door. Mycroft’s assistant was at the door. She held a black phone out to John. He took it and the card tucked behind. She turned on her heel and went back to texting as she walked away. He shut the door and tucked the phone in his pocket. He went back out to the kitchen. Rosie was happily making a mess of the remaining strawberries on her plate. Sherlock was going to flip out when he saw her. John sat down at the table. He sipped his coffee, before he opened the letter.  
Dr. John Watson-  
I’d like to apologize for my flippant disregard to both the depth and breadth of love you feel for my dear brother. I only realize now how my transgression may have upset you. Please accept this replacement phone as my sincerest apology.  
Fondly your brother in law,  
Mycroft Holmes

Sherlock walked into the kitchen, wiping his chin with a towel. He groaned when he saw their daughter. “Roooosie.” She giggled, smashing another strawberry.  
“You look good, love.” John grinned at him.  
“Rosie, what have you done?” He moaned, ignoring his husband’s sweet words.  
“She’s fine. Little girls get dirty.”  
“Not my daughter!” Sherlock defended.  
“Sherlock, it was not good that you didn’t sleep. I could kick you out.” John said, cautiously.  
Sherlock blanched, and shook his head. “No, please don’t. I don’t want that on any level.”  
John held up his hand. “I don’t want that either. I want to help you.”  
“Please?”  
“But I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on Sherl.”  
“Please John. I’m sorr-” Sherlock sighed. “Can we please set aside times for us to check in with each other?”  
“That’s a really good idea.” John nodded. “Even if it’s something as simple as a text?”  
“Yes. that would be helpful to remind me to be focused.” Sherlock nodded, then pulled his husband into his arms. John buried his face in his husband’s neck. He bit it.  
“Don’t make me use my Captain voice again or next time it’ll be hell.”  
Sherlock smirked at the thought of Captain John Hamish Watson, but very quickly realized how much trouble he’d be in. “I know you meant it as a punishment, but I wouldn’t mind being introduced to a happy Captain.”  
John bite him again. “That will not happen. Now go bathe your daughter before she gets any dirtier.”  
“You’re a bad man, John Watson.  
Rosie echoed, “Bad, bad, bad.”

**Author's Note:**

> The next "chapter" of this one will be a multi-chapter arc involving the Holmes' brothers, John and Rosie Watson, and a field trip to Walt Disney World.


End file.
